The Dreamers
by Random Frequent Flier Dent
Summary: What is the line between dreams and waking? And more importantly, how do we find it?  Giles has to figure that out when he gets forced into a nightmare world after defeating a demon. While Buffy and co race to find the answer, Giles is battling nightmares
1. Chapter 1

**Giles is my absolute favourite Buffy character, and I absolutely had to write a fic about him, even if I'm not totally sure where I'm going with this and if anyone is going to R&R. Yes, that was a flagrant hint. **

**This takes place early-ish season 3, before Angel comes back from hell.  
**

Chapter One

"Buffy! You're not concentrating."

"I am, I am."Fairly growling with frustration, the slayer tried to drag her thoughts away from the party that the extraordinarily cute Gilbert Braithwaite had invited her to and back to her fighting technique.

Giles eyed her critically as she bashed the boxing bag with all her strength and none of the technique that he had carefully ingrained into her for years. "Buffy, I can tell you're not focused."

"I am."

"No, you're not. Let's call it a day." Giles yielded to the inevitable with some reluctance. "But you'll make it up tomorrow night. Seven-thirty. Library." He started to leave, but was stopped by an anxious hand on his elbow.

"Seven-thirty! I can't. Gilbert Braithwaite's party!"

Giles stared at her. Buffy groaned theatrically in a way that most girls reserved for their fathers, and that Buffy reserved for him. "You know! Gilbert Braithwaite!"

"Buffy, repeating the fellow's name, only louder, is not going to help me understand. Who is Gilbert Braithwaite and what are you talking about?"

"He's only the cutest guy in the year. He's new, just moved here from New York or something, and he's throwing this party at his place and inviting _everyone_. He's got this mega-big house, and I mean mega-big, like, huge, and Willow's going with Oz, and Xander's going with Cordelia, and I'm supposed to be going too." Her voice trailed off. Buffy knew full well who she'd _like_ to go with. But Angel was dead—she'd killed him to stop the hell portal from opening—there would be no Gilbert Braithwaite parties for the two of them.

"Well, you're not going. You've missed enough training as it is and tomorrow's your only free evening this week. Library, seven-thirty." Giles continued on his way out of the library. Buffy ran after him, her hand seemingly glued to his arm as she tugged his sleeve in a way that did not befit her seventeen years.

"But Giles!" Giles didn't have to look at her to know that she had a pout playing about her lips and was widening her eyes in that signature Buffy way of hers. What had Jenny called that look once? Oh yes, puppy dog eyes. She'd been referring to him, but he thought that the term could be applied to Buffy too.

"But me no buts, Buffy."

Buffy looked blank. Giles sighed.

"Never mind." He locked the library doors and started down the corridor. "Buffy, seriously now, you haven't trained properly in far too long. Your technique's getting sloppy."

"No its not!"

"If your performance today was anything to go by I might've thought you'd had no training at all," Giles said cuttingly. "Seven-thirty."

"_Giles_!"

They were already exiting Sunnydale High, and crossing the carpark to Giles's car. "Will you stop screaming my name in my ear?"

Buffy sighed. "_Fine_. Seven-thirty, library. Yay." And she turned and stalked off.

Giles started the engine and drove home. He sometimes forgot that although Buffy was the slayer, she was still a teenage girl who wanted to have fun. And after that affair with Angel, goodness knew she needed it. Had he done wrong to prohibit her from going to that chap's—what was his name? Gordon Botie? Georg Barry?—party?

It was more important for Buffy to be well-trained than for her to attend a party, or so Giles reasoned as he parked his car and jiggle the key around in the lock, opening the door.

After all, he could withstand Buffy's petulance. Goodness knew he had experience.

**-break-**

"BUFFY!"

"GILES!"

The two glared at each other for a moment. Giles backed down because Buffy was the one with her fists doubled up and, although he knew she'd never deliberately hurt him, he still didn't want to be on the bad side of a slayer's fists.

"Buffy, your form is off," he said pointedly, moving over and physically pulling her fists into the correct position. "Even the least experienced fighter has that simple defense position firmly ingrained in their muscle memory and you get it wrong? That's not like you."

"I'm trying, Giles!"

A flagrant lie if he'd ever heard one. "No, you're not! I know what you're capable of, Buffy, and this isn't it. Now come on, one more time."

"You said, 'one more time' about three hours ago, Giles!" Buffy flared up. "I can't help it if my form isn't absolutely perfect, alright?"

"You bloody well can, Buffy. Your mind's still on that Gibby Bradson's party, isn't it?" Giles quipped back, allowing his temper to get the better of him for once and letting that 'bloody' slip out unintentionally.

"Gilbert Braithwaite, Giles!"

"Buffy, I don't care. Get your head out of those Gilbert-induced clouds and back on Earth, because Earth is where the vampires are, Buffy, and you are the vampire slayer."

"Oh, you think I don't know that?"

"I think perhaps you've forgotten, because that's the only explanation I can think of for your sloppiness lately!"

"Giles, that's just harsh."

"It's the reality!"

They glared at each other some more, and then Buffy grabbed her bag.

"What're you doing?" Giles demanded.

"I'm going home," Buffy said, and stalked out the door.

Giles was outraged. "No, you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

For some bizarre reason Bob the Builder's 'Can we fix it? Yes we can!' suddenly rang out in Giles's mind.

"I'm your watcher!"

"And I'm your slayer, so watch _this_!" and Buffy promptly flounced out the door.

Giles fought down the rising anger inside him. It really wasn't like her to act out like this. Perhaps this was the aftermath of the Angel affair. After all, she'd become sullen and irritable after she killed the Master in her sophomore year, maybe this was the same. He'd have to give her some time.

He went home and went straight to bed. It had been a very long day. And he was starting to feel a bit guilty. Buffy really had a most ridiculous effect on him. Even when he knew that he had a legitimate grievance she still somehow managed to make him believe that he was in the wrong.

All Giles knew was that he didn't like when they were butting heads. They were Slayer and Watcher and they had a great relationship built on patient work and mutual trust, and he didn't want to see it torn apart by anything.

Tomorrow, he decided as he pulled the covers over himself, tomorrow he would make it right.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Buffy went home, heated up a frozen pizza for dinner because her mother hadn't yet come back for the museum, ate a tub of Vanilla Brownie Caramel Haagen-Dazs ice cream in front of the television, mused about Gilbert and what her friends were doing for a few minutes, then went to bed.

She managed to do all that before she started feeling bad.

Buffy lay in bed and put away her phone—she'd just texted Willow asking her how the party was going—and sighed, staring at the ceiling. She hadn't been fair on Giles. He was right. She'd been fighting sloppily, and she hadn't been giving him the best that she could have. And then she'd shouted, stormed off in a fuss, and acted like a child.

_I _am_ a child. I'm a teenager. I can lash out once in a while, right_?

But, no, Buffy couldn't. She was the slayer. Giles was her watcher. That was the way it had always been.

Buffy shut the window and turned off the light.

**-break-**

"Buffy! Over here!"

Buffy had just walked into the school hallway when she was flagged over by Willow. Grinning, she bounded over to her friend.

"Hey! How was Gil-Gil's gig?"

Willow smiled at the alliteration. "Not bad. Dingoes Ate My Baby played a few songs. Oz is the lead guitarist…"

"Willow, I know." Buffy couldn't help smiling at that. "You told me. About a million times."

Willow crossed the corridor to open her locker and Buffy followed her. "So how was training? Did Giles give you a hard time?"

Buffy sighed. "We were both pretty wound up. Ended up in a screaming fight, with me storming off."

Willow shut her locker, looking worried. "It's not _that_ bad?" The redheaded witch knew that Buffy's relationship with her watcher, although it ran deep, was rocky at best.

"It was my fault," Buffy acknowledged; she felt it would only be fair to take some share of the blame. "I wasn't really trying. Guess I was fed-up that he kept me away from the party. Then I got shirty. And being Giles, he got shirty right back at me. And then things escalated."

"He won't hold it against you." Willow said reassuringly. "He's Giles. He knows things haven't really been easy lately. For any of us."

There was silence for a few moments as both girls pondered. Then the bell rang and shattered their ponderment. That wasn't a word, but Buffy liked the sound of it, so she stored it away in her personal Buffy dictionary to use in the future.

"Got to get to class," Willow said, "I've got English Literature. We're dissecting Caliban's monologue in _The Tempest_."

Buffy shuddered. She hated every Shakespeare play that existed, as well as those that didn't, just for good measure. "I've got a free. But you have fun."

"I will," Willow said, more seriously than Buffy had meant it as she dashed off. Knowing Willow, she really would enjoy it. Sometimes Buffy couldn't understand her.

Buffy took a slow walk to the library, their usual haunt. She sometimes found it a bit silly that although it was the headquarters of the Scoobies, Willow and Giles were the only ones among them who actually read in the library unless there was a pending crisis that called for major research.

Giles was reading now, thoroughly absorbed in a thick and boring-looking tome, a cup of steadily cooling Earl Grey tea on the table next to the book. He didn't even notice her come in, so she sat down in the chair opposite his and announced herself by clearing her throat.

He glanced up at her. "Buffy," he sounded a bit bemused. "Don't you have class?"

"Free periods are god-sent gifts," Buffy said. "I've been blessed with one."

"Ah," Giles said. "Oh."

"What're you researching?" Buffy leaned over the table to peer at the book. It wasn't in English. "Not a big bad monster for us to kill, is it? And is that in ancient Greek or something?"

"Latin," Giles said. "And, well, there does seem to be a demon that will come out of hibernation tonight."

Buffy's heart sank straight into her new, monstrously expensive kitten heels. "Oh." _Another evening gone, then_. And she'd already made plans with Willow and Xander and their respective partners to spend the evening in the Bronze. In light of yesterday's unfortunate tantrum-throwing, Buffy held her tongue, but Giles seemed to read her mind.

"Buffy, I'm sorry about yesterday. I know you wanted to go to Giddy Bonson's party."

Buffy didn't bother correcting him. "I did want to go," she admitted. "But I shouldn't have snapped. Or shouted. Or left." There was a pause, and then she said in small voice, "Sorry, Giles."

Giles flashbacked to that one time when Buffy had lied to him in order to go to that fraternity party with Cordelia. She'd said, "Sorry." in exactly the same voice then. He'd forgiven her on the spot even though he'd been trying his best to stay stern. He did the same thing now.

"We'll put it behind us, then," Giles said. "But to make up for the missed party, I don't think it's necessary for you to come. I can take care of the demon alone."

"Giles, you're not a slayer."

"I may not have superhuman abilities, but I can handle myself," Giles said dryly. "Besides, according to the book it's small and fairly weak and can be killed with iron. In other words, I can shoot it."

"You can handle a gun?" Buffy asked.

_Do you really have that low an impression of my fighting skills_? Giles sighed. "Yes, Buffy. I can handle a gun. I can kill the demon on my own."

"But—" Buffy's sense of duty and natural worry for her watcher was struggling against her desire to spend time with her friends. "What if you get into trouble? Or need help?"

"I'll call you. Willow made me purchase one of those cell-phone things in case of such an event." Giles said. "I'm confident that it will go smoothly. Buffy, you've had a hard time of late. It will be good to take an evening off."

"Who are you and what have you done with Rupert Giles?" Buffy asked jokingly. Then she sighed. "I don't know, Giles. I'd love to go the Bronze with Willow and Xander and the others, but—"

"It's settled," Giles said firmly. "Keep your cell phone on."

Buffy was shocked. "It's never off, Giles. What if I get an important text from a cute guy? No teenager leaves their cell phone off, _ever_." Then her face split into a smile. "Thanks, Giles."

"You're welcome," Giles said. "Now kindly depart. I have some preliminary research to conduct and I believe you should get to class."

"I said I had a free," Buffy said, but she left for a quick bite at the canteen.

She tried to dismiss the feeling of apprehension in her gut. It was true, anyway, Giles may not be a slayer, but the Watcher's Council trained every one of their watchers thoroughly and he could take care of himself surprisingly well. He didn't often let on, and you wouldn't know it to look at him, but he really could fight. She hadn't forgotten the time when he'd beaten Angel almost senseless with a flaming bat. That hadn't ended well, but Buffy knew that if it had been a lesser vampire that he had gone after, he'd have won, no contest.

Buffy forgot about the nagging feeling at the back of her mind and got to class. Time to tackle some geometry proofs.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Everything was going smoothly. At seven'o'clock Giles drove to the cemetery, which was where his research had pointed to, hid his shotgun in a large bag—he reckoned that a shotgun would be a lot harder to explain away to the police than a vial of holy water or even a wooden stake—and headed off to the old tomb.

It was quiet—no vampires intercepted him on the way there, for which he was thankful. He, too, was tired, and wanted to finish the demon off quickly and then go home.

It didn't take forever to find the demon. Giles found her lurking inside the dark tomb, leaning over the body of a man and muttering. Giles flinched, squinting in the darkness, and lifted the shotgun. Apparently he hadn't been quick enough to save the first victim.

The demon lifted her head and Giles almost dropped the shotgun.

She looked like a woman at first glance—light blond hair, white skin, full lips. One side of her face was covered in intricate tattoos and her eyes had no whites—they were pure black. She bared her teeth and Giles caught a glimpse of fangs, not canine fangs like vampires had, but about six rows of razor-sharp incisors, like a shark. She was naked, but her body was covered in the same tattoos as the left side of her face.

Giles found himself hesitating.

The demon wasn't like the other demons he and Buffy went after. She was… perversely beautiful. Giles hated himself for thinking it, but it was true. There was something ethereal about her, forget the fangs, forget the body on the floor.

And everyone knows what happens to he who hesitates.

The demon leaped at him with a scream. That word was hopelessly inadequate for the sound that came out of her mouth—it took all of his will not to drop the gun and clap his hands over his ears.

Giles was stunned into acting as he felt pain explode in his shoulder. She'd _bitten_ him. The book hadn't said anything about that. Desperately, he kept a deathgrip on the shotgun and somehow he found himself pulling the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed through the tomb. Shot at point-blank range through the head, the demon never had a chance. She fell back and was still. Trying to catch his breath, Giles struggled to his feet and inspected the dead demon.

Slowly, she dissolved. That was the only word for it. She didn't explode into dust like vampires did; she just melted into the ether, like sand blown away by the wind.

Giles hid his shotgun and called 911 about the body of the man.

The police came, took away the body in a body bag, questioned Giles seriously for a very long time, took him back to the station and questioned him some more until they let him go home. Luckily they didn't notice the wound on his shoulder, but it wasn't serious; for all the razor-sharp teeth, it really wasn't that deep and has already stopped bleeding.

It was midnight by that time. So much for hoping to get it done quickly. He'd killed the demon within five minutes but in total, five hours…

All in all, Giles was glad he told Buffy to take the evening off. He really hadn't needed her help after all, and if she'd come she would have had to endure hours of police questioning for no reason.

He went home, inspected his wound and cleaned it to avoid infection from wherever else that demon's teeth had been, and then collapsed into bed.

_Darkness. And then a flickering candle light. Giles looked around in bemusement. Silence. Dead silence. He could see nothing except for the candle. And then he became aware of a presence close to himself; he could hear light breathing, sense someone's eyes on him. And he had never felt so vulnerable. He was terrified; he didn't know why, but he was. _

"_You're in trouble."_

_A clear, ringing woman's voice, and Giles felt himself sink to his knees. Please, no, I'm sorry, let me go, oh God, please, I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry…_

Giles awoke with a start.

He passed a hand over his face and felt tears on his cheeks. He frowned. He must have had a nightmare; but he couldn't remember what it was, except for a vague recollection of a woman's voice. Maybe it had to do with Jenny. He'd spent months after his death dreaming about her and waking up in tears, although he hadn't done that of late. And those dreams had never left a vague imprint of paralysing terror.

No matter. He'd had a rough evening, that was bound to spawn bad dreams of some sort. Giles shrugged it off, and felt for his watch.

What he saw on the watch made him forget all about the dream as he realised that he was late. Very late.

He changed and got ready at the speed of light and disregarded every traffic law as he raced to Sunnydale High and leaped out of his car thirty minutes after the lunch bell had gone.

He got to the library feeling very harried, where the Scoobies were already assembled. Xander and Cordelia were perched on the same chair, and Oz and Willow sitting side by side, holding hands. Buffy was pacing, looking anxious.

"Giles! Thank God!" Buffy said, as soon as Giles entered the library. "We were so worried. We thought you might have gotten into trouble with the demon."

Giles shook his head. "I'm sorry. There was no trouble, but the police kept me up almost all night and I must have overslept."

"So what happened with the demon?" Xander asked. "I'm guessing the watcher kicked demon butt?"

Giles yawned. "Yes. Indeed I did."

"You look terrible," Cordelia pointed out with her usual tact. "Like, really awful terrible."

Giles smiled wanly. "Thank you for telling me, I had no id—"

_Stop. Please. I didn't know. Please, I'm scared. I don't know what's going on. Did I do something wrong? I didn't know… I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry…_

"Giles!"

He felt firm hands grip his shoulders, shaking him very lightly. He opened his eyes to see Buffy's alarmed face inches from his own.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You kind of zoned out for a bit," Oz said, who had gotten to his feet and was now sitting back down, brow furrowed. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, if you're gonna collapse on us you'd better let us know," Cordelia added.

"I am not going to collapse," Giles said. "I'm just tired. Don't you have to get to class soon?"

Cordelia, Xander, Willow and Oz filed out of the library without further protest, but Buffy stayed hovering near him.

"Principle Snyder wanted me to tell you to report to his office," Buffy said, making a face. "He seemed pretty mad."

"That monkeyman is almost always cross," Giles said, feeling cross himself. The last thing he wanted was to endure a lecture from Snyder.

_I'm sorry!_

Giles flinched, but luckily Buffy didn't notice. "Yeah," she said in sympathy. "Well, better you than me."

"Thanks very much," he said sarcastically, and they left the library together.

The corridors were lined with students mulling around and chatting or taking things from their lockers. Buffy and Giles weaved their way through the crowded corridor.

"How was the Bronze?" Giles asked, wondering why his voice suddenly sounded so muffled. Come to think of it, all the sounds were suddenly sounding like he was hearing them through a sheet of water. Odd. A bit disorienting. He shook his head to clear it and regretted it instantly.

"It was great! They had this guest band playing, they were seriously rocking, I actually got a headache afterward, but it was a good kind of headache, you know?"

A good headache? Giles had never heard of such a thing in his whole existence. He was currently suffering from a headache that was not very good at all, and was wishing heartily he'd never asked.

"And this other senior boy asked me to dance, and he was a great dancer, the next time I see him I'll definitely…"

Everything was spinning. The corridor around him dissolved into an inarticulate whirl of colours. Giles suddenly felt like he was going to fall and automatically grabbed the nearest thing to him in order to keep his balance, which happened to be Buffy's arm.

"Giles?"

Black and red bled across his vision. Everything was darkening, like the lights were slowly dimming. Maybe a power shortage? They really ought to get a technician to look at the electricity system. What seemed like thousands of invisible hands were forcing Giles to his knees. He tried to resist, but soon he was on the floor, blinking hard and grappling with his consciousness like it was a bar of wet soap, trying to make sense of what was happening.

"Giles!"

Buffy was kneeling next to him. He was vaguely aware of her holding him, talking rapidly, shouting, screaming. Giles saw anxious brown eyes, and then her lips were moving and she was saying something to him, but everything was going black.

_I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**note: I got a note from a reader telling me that I got the ambulance procedure completely wrong here. :P I'm very grateful for the alert, and I admit that I know nothing about hospital procedure in the U.S, so I'll ask you to suspend disbelief for the sake of the story, okay? :) if I get anything else wrong please tell. I won't bite.**

"Giles?"

Buffy stopped her rendition of her night at the Bronze sharpish as she felt Giles grab her arm suddenly. She spun around quickly. He looked terrible; how had she not noticed it before?

"Giles!"

He tilted his head to one side, looking confused, as though he wasn't quite sure what was going on. She caught a hint of fear in his eyes—that set all her alarm bells ringing. Then he collapsed.

Several swear words escaped Buffy's mouth as she dropped to her knees next to him, slipping her arms around his limp body and shaking him, as though he was merely sleeping and she could shake him back into awareness. Brushing her hand against his forehead, she realised with growing horror that he had a fever. What was going on?

They were attracting stares from fellow students but no-one was moving. Buffy's blood boiled. "What're you doing?" she screamed at them. "Call an ambulance! Hurry up!" There was a dash and a few students ran off, hopefully for a phone or a teacher. Preferably the former.

Tears stung Buffy's eyes. "Giles, come on, this isn't cool. Wake up. Giles…"

A classroom door opened and a teacher who Buffy didn't recognise ran out. A brown-haired woman in her thirties, that was all that registered in Buffy's mind. Her focus was entirely on Giles.

"Mr. Giles?" the random teacher said, kneeling next to them. She looked at Buffy. "What happened?"

"I—I don't know," Buffy said helplessly. "H-he just collapsed…"

The teacher said some other things after that, but Buffy didn't hear any of them. Looking down at the figure lying in her arms as though dead, she felt horror rising like bile in the back of her throat.

The ambulance must have been called, because suddenly the corridor was full of professional-looking doctors and nurses, and they were prying her away from her watcher, speaking to one another in technical medical terms that Buffy didn't understand.

"Giles…"

"Come on, kid, it's okay, we've gotta leave now, give 'em space," one of the doctors was talking to her, leading her away, and she followed, still in a state of shock. The unnamed doctor brought her into the school hallway, where a hoard of curious students and teachers were staring, and into the principle's office.

"Giles. Is he going to be alright?" she asked as the doctor shut the door.

The doctor was evasive. "He's a teacher at this school, correct?"

"Rupert Giles. The librarian." Buffy said. "Is he gonna be alright?"

"I don't know." The doctor admitted, and the door opened to admit the monkeyman himself, Snyder.

"Summers," Snyder growled. "What happened? Why are there doctors in my school?" He pointed a bony finger. "This is your fault, Summers!"

"How is it my fault?" Buffy managed to be incensed, an another emotion adding to the already bewildering number inside her head.

"Mr. Snyder, please," the doctor said. "A member of your staff has had a medical emergency."

"Giles," Snyder snarled. "I knew it. That librarian is more trouble than he's worth. I should have known he'd pull a stunt like this when I ordered him to come to my office for an official reprimand for tardiness."

The doctor looked rather shocked. Evidently he was unused to Snyder's lack of logic. "I seriously doubt Mr. Giles became seriously ill on purpose, simply to escape a reprimand."

A lump formed in Buffy's throat. "Seriously ill?"

"Sweetie, we don't know yet. But I promise you he'll have the best possible care," a nurse had just entered the room and caught what Buffy had said. She was plump and kindly-looking, middle-aged with brown hair that had a few shots of grey threading through it. "Are you very close to him?"

Buffy shrugged, feeling numb. _Yes. He's my watcher. Sometimes I take him for granted but he's like my father. I shouldn't ever forget that but sometimes I do. So I really need him to be okay. I don't know what I'll do without him._ Instead she said, "I guess. I spend a lot of time in the library. We talk sometimes. After school."

"Mr. Snyder, do you have Rupert Giles's medical information in your records?" The doctor asked. Snyder groused a bit, but they both left the office, the kindly nurse going with them, leaving Buffy alone.

Buffy left the office a few moments later, listening to the wail of the ambulance sirens getting softer in the distance.

_Giles_.

He was gonna be alright. He always was.

"Buffy!"

She turned around to see Xander and Willow running down the corridor towards her.

"We saw Giles—he didn't look too good," Xander said, concern etching his every feature. "What happened?"

"He's gonna be okay, right?" Willow asked a little desperately. "Right?"

Buffy looked from Xander to Willow and then back again. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know."

That wasn't the answer either of them wanted to hear, but it was the only thing she could say. Willow hugged Buffy tightly. "We'll go see him after school," Willow said. "I'm sure he's okay. He's just really tired, maybe, he spent ages doing research last night and then that demon…"

"The demon…" Buffy muttered. She looked up. "It was the demon. Had to be. That demon did something to him. I should've gone with, I never should've let him go on his own."

"Buffy, it wasn't your fault," Xander said firmly. "We don't even know that it was the demon. Maybe it's a virus or something. Timmy Walter in my chem class passed out the other day, and it turned out he had this bug that's going around. I mean, you can treat bugs. You know?"

Xander wasn't always the most eloquent of people, but he doing his best to be comforting, and Buffy knew he was worried too, so she smiled at him. "Yeah. We'll go see him after school. I'm sure he's fine. He's Giles, he gets into scrapes every other day and he's always fine."

She was convincing no-one, but Willow and Xander nodded and smiled like they believed her and went off. All of them knew that Giles was not okay, and that it did have something to do with the demon, but saying so would serve no purpose except to make them more upset about what had happened.

They paused, and then turned and went their separate ways.

**-break-**

Darkness.

Cold.

Terror.

Giles squinted, trying his best to see through the gloom, but it was like shouting into the wind. He could see nothing. He was nowhere.

"Let me out!" he shouted, but he couldn't hear his own voice. The darkness was so absolute that it devoured sound, too. "Please. I'm sorry."

There was nothing. Giles tried walking forward, but it was no use. He was in a void. It wasn't darkness, he realised. It was nothingness. He was in a place where _nothing_ existed. Like the spaces between stars.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Note: hey, lovely readers, sorry for the long-ish hiatus but my school suddenly decided to spring a load of tests and projects and I don't have much time for writing. Still, reviews could possibly motivate me to forget the projects temporarily in favour of my fic? *hint hint***

After school, Oz, Cordelia, Buffy, Xander and Willow all squashed themselves into Cordelia's car and they zoomed off to the Sunnydale hospital.

"I've got, like, a million reports to finish," Cordelia complained. "I don't see why you can't go without me."

"Since when do you care about homework?" Oz asked with mild curiosity.

"I don't. But my History teacher threatened me with a year's worth of detentions, and, like, that would not be good." Cordelia said as she cut into someone else's lane and swerved wildly.

"You don't have to come if you really don't want to," Willow said from the back seat. "We can walk."

There was a pause. Then Cordelia shrugged her shoulders. "Beats doing homework."

That was Cordelia-speak for, "I'm worried about Giles too, because even though we're not exactly BFFs, I don't want him to die."

Buffy and Cordelia didn't always see eye-to-eye, but Buffy recognised what she meant and kept silent.

Cordelia parked clear across two parking lots in the car-park and the five of them entered the hospital. All five had been there far too often for comfort. Buffy wondered if there was a frequent flier discount for people like them. Probably not.

They approached the front desk and Xander gave the pretty blond receptionist a bright smile. Cordelia stomped on his foot.

Eyes watering slightly from the pain, Xander said, "Hey. Um, we're here to see Rupert Giles?"

The receptionist typed something onto her computer. "Family or friends?"

"Family," Buffy said.

There were a few surprised look from the people around her, but no-one contradicted her, and for that she was grateful. The receptionist clicked on something on her screen, and said, "Third floor. Ward 312. It's on the far right once you step out of the lift."

There was a sudden mad dash for the lift. The receptionist stared after them, bemused, then shrugged and returned to her work.

When they reached the ward, the same nurse Buffy had encountered at the school was just exiting the ward. When she saw Buffy, the nurse smiled. Her nametag read 'Maud Wilson'.

"Oh, hello, dear. Are you here to see Mr. Giles?"

"Yes," five voices said in unison.

"Is he alright?" Buffy asked.

The nurse's smile faltered. "Well, um…" she opened the door to the ward. "Why don't you come in?"

They filed in. Giles's bed was at the far end and they crowded around anxiously. Buffy took one look at him and rounded on the nurse.

"What's wrong with him?" Buffy demanded.

"Darling, we don't know," the nurse said softly. "We can't find a cause. There's no virus in his body. We thought at first it might have been heart trouble, but his heart is fine. We just don't know."

"You don't _know_?" Cordelia said. "Are you guys paid to know? How can you not know? That's lame!"

"Cordelia," Xander said, slipping an arm around her waist.

"So you don't know," Buffy said, her heart sinking. So much for hoping that it might just be a virus. "He's physically fine, but he just won't wake up."

"He had a fever before we brought it down," Maud said. "And, um, this." The nurse tugged Giles's blanket down and showed them a small wound.

"It looks like a bite mark," Maud said. "An animal of some sort. But most likely unrelated. It's not venomous, we found no trace of poison in his bloodstream." She shook her head at them. "We're not sure he's going to wake up."

"Of course he is," Buffy said.

Maud gave them a sympathetic look before going out.

Buffy sat next to Giles's bed. He didn't look too good. Whatever dreams he was having, they weren't about hugs and puppies. "Giles," she said miserably.

There was an awkward silence.

"Guess I'd better be going," Cordelia said a few silent moments later. "Homework, you know."

Buffy said nothing, and Cordelia left, Xander accompanying her.

The minutes ticked past in silence. Oz left for band practice. Willow left too.

Buffy looked down at Giles's unconscious form. Wherever he was, he wasn't having a good time. He was frowning, and his eyes were moving beneath closed lids.

She went home at last, realising that he had no idea she was there and she couldn't do anything for him by standing there. It was eight'o'clock by the time she got back, and her mother answered the door, looking in equal parts annoyed and worried.

"Buffy, you didn't tell me you had patrol or training today," Joyce Summers pronounced the words 'patrol' and 'training' delicately. She still wasn't used to the idea of Buffy being a slayer.

Buffy entered the house and threw her coat onto the sofa. "I don't." Buffy felt she should expand further, but couldn't be bothered.

Joyce, however, wouldn't leave off. She followed Buffy like an annoying shadow. Buffy tried to dismiss her irritation. Buffy's bad day and worry for her watcher was the reason for her bad mood, not her mother, and she had to be fair.

"Were you at the Bronze, then? I would have appreciated you calling to let me know."

Buffy turned around to face her mother. "I was at the hospital, mom."

"The hospital? Are you alright?"

"_I'm_ fine." Buffy said, pushing past her mother for the kitchen. She hadn't had dinner and she realised that she was starving. Were there any remainders of the cold pizza she'd eaten two nights ago? Buffy starting poking through the contents of the fridge hopefully.

"Then why were you at the hospital?" Joyce followed her daughter to the kitchen. "Buffy, what aren't you telling me?"

Buffy found a tiny slice of pizza, burnt underneath, barely enough for a snack. She pushed it right to the back of the fridge. It didn't matter; she wasn't hungry anymore.

Buffy closed the fridge and turned to her mother.

"It's Giles. He passed out during school and he won't wake up. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him."

"Oh, honey," Joyce wasn't sure how to react. On one hand, she didn't get along with Buffy's watcher, and there was certainly no love lost between the two. On the other hand, she knew Buffy was very close to him, and with the relative absence of Buffy's father, Joyce didn't altogether think that their tight-knit relationship was an altogether bad thing. And besides, Buffy's expression told her that there was more to it than met the eye. "Is there… is there anything else you need to tell me?" she asked, almost tentatively.

Buffy looked for a moment as though she was going to scream that no, there was nothing more, Giles was lying as though dead in a hospital, what more did Joyce want? But then the girl sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. Joyce sat next to her.

"I think it has to do with the demon," Buffy said in a rush. "Giles told me that a demon was going to be rising last night. He went to fight it on his own; he told me he could take care of it himself, and I believed it." She missed a beat. "Damn it, mom, I don't know if I believed him or not. Maybe I knew, inside, that he was going to get hurt, but I ignored it because I wanted to go and have fun."

"Buffy…"

"And then he didn't turn up at school today. We were all worried. But he came in at noon, said he'd been up all night being questioned by the police and overslept—the demon killed this guy, see—and he'd killed the demon easily. We thought it was alright, then. He seemed a bit—out of it, but I didn't think anything of it, you know? I figured I'd be out of it too if I'd been interrogated by the police all night. You know?" Buffy looked at her mother, eyes begging for a response.

"I know, Buffy. That's what I would have thought, too."

"Then me and Giles were walking down the corridor—he'd been summoned to Snyder's office to be ticked off for being late—and he just collapsed." Buffy shook her head. "The demon did something to him. If I'd gone too, I might've been able to prevent it."

Buffy put her head in her arms and Joyce didn't know what to do except to pat her awkwardly on the back and murmur that it would be alright.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Hello?"

Giles spoke into the darkness without much hope of getting a response. How long had he been here? Seconds? Or years?

Maybe forever. Maybe he would be here forever.

"Let me _out_!" he shouted. "I'm _sorry_! Whatever I did…" his voice broke. It was too much. Then a strange thought crossed his mind.

Maybe he was _dead_.

Maybe this was where you went when you died.

Giles thought back. When had he died? The last thing he remembered was Buffy's voice. The school corridors, filled with students. Buffy's laughing eyes, her light smile turning to dread as she looked at him. He remembered confusion, bewilderment. Why were the lights going out? What was Buffy saying, why couldn't he hear her?

He remembered falling, and he remembered Buffy's arms around him as she clasped him tight and shook him lightly, crying out something he couldn't hear. What would she have been saying? Probably screaming his name over and over again.

And then… after that… he was here.

That didn't make much sense. Giles couldn't think of any reason for him to have died. Unless it was a heart attack or something? But no, that didn't ring true. He didn't remember any pain and besides, he wasn't old enough to spontaneously drop dead from a heart attack.

Well, if he was indeed dead he was going to be here for a very, very long time. The thought was terrifying. _I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't expect to die randomly from an unknown cause, leaving you alone. I didn't mean to_.

Giles wandered around. If his legs weren't moving he wouldn't have known he was walking—he couldn't feel anything against his feet, no sensation of gravity, just blank, blank nothingness unlike anything he had experienced before.

Suddenly, he remembered something. When he was going through his rebellious youth, he'd often had nightmares that he was stuck in a dark, empty void. It probably had to do with the dark magic he was dabbling with—that sort of stuff could corrupt a mind, and nightmares of being trapped in a void of nothingness wasn't altogether unexpected. But this wasn't a simple nightmare. This was real.

"This is not good." Giles said to himself. "Not good at all."

And then suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

The darkness suddenly peeled away to be replaced by blinding, overpowering light.

In truth, the light wasn't that bright, but to Giles, who had spent goodness-only-knew-how-long in a cocoon of pitch darkness, it was agonising. He dropped to his knees—good lord, he could actually feel the floor now, he was no longer floating in a void—and buried his head in his arms to block out the light.

He didn't know how long he stayed in that pathetically vulnerable position, but he didn't want to look up. Briefly he was glad that none of the children were here to see him like that, and then dismissed the thought as ridiculous. If any of the children were here, seeing him scared was about the last thing he was afraid of.

"Hey!"

The voice sounded unnaturally loud. Giles couldn't help cringing away slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"He-y! Look up, silly."

There was something so familiar about that voice—it gave him a faint sense of longing. Giles looked up.

He was in Sunnydale High.

It was nighttime. He was in a computer room. It was Jenny's classroom.

He sucked in a sharp breath and glanced around. There was Jenny standing behind him, a wickedly mischevious grin on her face. "Hey, Rupert. You alright now?"

"W-what?"

"You were in pretty bad shape. Should I have called Buffy? She was so worried about the whole Angel thing, what with him leaving charcoal sketches of her in her bed," Jenny shook her head. "It's really rough. But you're alright, aren't you?"

There was something unnervingly unreal about the whole situation. This wasn't happening. Couldn't be. "Jenny, no," Giles said. "Jenny…"

"What _is_ up with you?" Jenny knelt down next to him and put a hand on his cheek. A shiver ran through his spine like an electric shock. "I've got good news, though. I figured out how to re-soul Angel." She chuckled at her own wording. "I'm really sorry about everything, but it's gonna be alright. Back to normal. I can give Angel back his soul…"

Every alarm bell was ringing in Giles's head. This was when Jenny had figured out how to give Angel back his soul. This was right before Angel had killed her. This was right after he had walked off, smiling to himself, unaware of what was going to happen mere minutes after he had left for Buffy's house.

"Jenny…"

Behind her, in the shadows, something moved.

"Jenny!"

And then Angel was springing at her, his face in full-on vampire mode, as Buffy would have said. Giles screamed at her to run, and he dashed at Angelus, ready to tear him to pieces with his bare hands, but what seemed like an invisible wall kept him away. Jenny didn't notice that anything was wrong. How could she not realise what was happening? She was still chattering away, blindly oblivious, and then Angel smiled and reached out and…

Then Jenny realised. Terror in her eyes, she opened her mouth in one last, desperate plea. "_Rupert, help_!"

Snap.

Like a ragdoll, she fell to the floor. Like dust the in wind, Angelus vanished.

"Jenny! No!"

She was still sprawled on the floor, still and unmoving, her eyes wide and horrified, just as they had been when he first discovered her body on his bed, tangled up in the covers. But suddenly her voice whispered in his mind. "Rupert, why did you let me die?"

"_I'm sorry_!"

Giles cried out, but suddenly the scene was changing again, his surroundings melding and morphing, and suddenly he was standing in a dirty, run-down warehouse in London.

"What—"

The distinctive crackle and smell of a small bonfire caught Giles's attention, along with the soft murmur of voices. He inched along the wall, peering around a corner.

The entire floor was covered with intricate, winding designs and lettering. In the very middle of the labyrinth of paint was the fire; sitting around the fire were two very familiar figures.

"Ripper," the twenty-two-year-old Ethan Rayne said, looking up and smiling. The flickering fire played off his features. "I thought you'd never get here."

"Ethan," Giles said. His tone was wary, distrustful; he'd been close to Ethan when he was a boy, but in his later years Ethan had brought him nothing but trouble.

"Wot's the matter?" The other boy looked up too and Giles's breath caught in his throat. Randall. The boy was younger than them, barely eighteen, too young for this, too young to die. It was his fault, really, Giles—Ripper—had been the one to introduce Randall to this, and Ripper had been the one who convinced Randall to meddle with the demon Eyghon. "Not getting cold feet, are you?"

The boy's smile was roguish, eager. Anticipating his turn with the demon. Giles said softly, "No. This isn't right."

They didn't seem to hear him. As one they pulled up their sleeves to reveal the tattoo—Giles involuntarily pulled up his as well, revealing an identical inking on his forearm.

They began to chant—a deep, guttural language that Giles had long since tried to purge from his memory. "No, no, stop!" he shouted, but they didn't hear him. How could they not hear him? He was right there, shouting almost in their faces.

Giles started to run towards them, determined to stop them if it meant knocking them both out and snuffing out the fire himself, but like it had been with Jenny, he seemed to run straight into an invisible, albeit solid wall. Ethan and Randall chanted ever louder. Giles hollered at them to stop, please stop, didn't they know what was going to happen, couldn't they hear him? But, no, they didn't, couldn't hear him.

Slowly, a shadowy figured formed out of the rising smoke from the fire. Giles saw equal parts fear and exhilaration and delight in Randall's eyes and he recalled feeling the same thing himself when it was his turn to host to demon.

Slowly, the shadow sank into Randall—that was the only way to describe it—it sank into him and slowly his featured changed, contorted. It wasn't Randall anymore. It was the demon.

The scene blurred slightly and shifted, and suddenly the demon was coming straight at Giles and he had a long sword in his hand all of a sudden. His reaction was instinctive. Self-preservation and instinct won out and Giles swung the sword…

Just like he had before.

He stared down at the boy's body on the floor, spun around and retched.

"My God, Randall! I'm sorry!"

_I'm sorry, Randall. I'm sorry, Jenny. I'm sorry…_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Buffy got to school very late the next morning and headed straight to the library. She was skipping Pre-Calculus, but she'd always hated that class anyway. Calculus messed with her head. How Willow could possibly take Honours Differential Equations and find it, in her own words, 'kind of easy, it's not really as hard as they said it would be', was beyond the slayer.

All the same, there were more important things for her to tackle than maths sums. Buffy pushed open the door to the library only to see, with surprise, that Oz and Cordelia were already there and flicking through books.

"Are you _sure_ this is in English?" Cordelia was complaining to Oz.

Oz glanced at the leather-bound tome she was reading. "Pretty sure."

"I'm not. Wanna swap?"

"Okay." Oz switched books with her without any fuss. Cordelia squinted at the new book and groaned.

"Are you sure _this_ one's in English?"

Buffy swung herself into a seat. "Hey, uh, what're you two doing here?"

Cordelia made a face. "What does it _look_ like we're doing? Reading books that aren't even in English."

"Willow and Xander have gone to class," Oz supplied. "We're taking over research from them for a while. But so far, zilch. Did Giles tell you anything else about that demon?"

Buffy grabbed one of the books and glared at it as though it had been mean to her. "No. He just said it was a demon and it was supposed to be coming out of hibernation or something, and that it was weak and he could kill it without my help. I didn't ask further—" Her eyes went to the door of his office. "I wonder."

She crossed the room and entered Giles's office. Cordelia and Oz exchanged looks, but their doubt was quickly squashed when Buffy emerged triumphantly carrying a still-open scroll.

"You guys never thought to look in his office? He left the book on the demon there." Buffy put it on the table and the three crowded around it eagerly. Then her face fell. "And it's in Latin. Typical Giles. I don't suppose either of you can read Latin, because I sure as heck can't."

"Well, I can't either," Oz said. "But I think Willow can. She told me Giles has been teaching her Latin because most old spellbooks are in Latin. Maybe she might be able to read it."

Just then the bell rang, signaling lunch. "She'll probably be heading to the library right about now, being the geek she is," Cordelia said.

Oz and Buffy both shot her dirty looks—well, at least Buffy did, since Oz never actually showed that much emotion—just as Willow and Xander entered the library.

"Any news from the hospital?" Xander asked.

Buffy shook her head. "Not that I know of, but look." She pointed at the book. "It was the book he was reading on the demon. Can either of you read Latin?"

"I can!" Willow looked as enthusiastic as she did in class when she knew the right answer. "Well, at least, I think I can. A bit. But Giles said I was improving really well." Her face fell when she took the scroll, the enthusiasm melting off. "I can barely read every other word."

"Try," Buffy begged. "None of us know how to do it, and we can't exactly ask a language teacher here to do it for us. We'd all get sent off to mental asylums for the dangerously insane."

There was silence for a few more minutes as Willow stared at the book and everyone else stared at her. Then Willow broke the silence by glancing up and saying nervously, "Hey guys, you know the hovering and the staring isn't really helping me with the reading. It would be nice if you could give me, you know, some space?"

"Whatever you need, Will," Xander said, jumping off his seat at once. "I'm heading to the cafeteria. Cordy?"

"You can buy me a nonfat latte," Cordelia offered, and the two left.

"Well, I'm not sticking around school either," Buffy said. "I already skipped calc, I might as well skip out of… everything else, I suppose. Maybe I can get out of school, sneak off to the hospital to see how Giles is doing."

"I'll come," Oz said in his matter-of-fact way, and Buffy found herself glad of the company. She and Oz left school—no-one stopped them, and Buffy wondered if the school security guards had finally despaired of the futile task of keeping all the students in school. Either way, they decided to walk to the library, as it wasn't all that far and they didn't want to raise the suspicions of a taxi driver.

Oz wasn't really a chatty sort of guy, so the walk proceeded in silence except for a few brave stabs at conversation from Buffy. Oz answered briefly and the small talk got smaller and smaller until Buffy gave up. It wasn't that she didn't like Oz—Willow's boyfriend was a cool guy. But he just wasn't the most exciting company.

Buffy found herself thinking wistfully of Angel. She loved him so much it was almost like a physical pain in her chest, in her arms, in every inch of her body. Her relationship with Angel had been nothing like Willow's relationship with Oz—Buffy and Angel had been crazy and passionate and they'd never done things by halves. They'd been so in love it felt like a carnival ride spinning wildly out of control and into uncharted waters—and Buffy liked it like that. Oz and Willow were sweet, careful and conservative. It didn't seem quite as... meaningful to Buffy, but on the other hand their relationship hadn't ended in blood and tears and fire as Buffy's had, so she really couldn't say which was better.

Thinking of Angel was bringing Buffy to a place she vowed never to go back to, so she thought of Giles instead. The throbbing ache that had always been present since she had been forced to kill Angel intensified. It seemed that she couldn't save anyone she cared about anymore; she'd had to kill the love of her life, and now she was on her way to the hospital where her watcher, the man she sometimes felt understood her better than anyone else ever could, was lying as though dead.

"Buffy."

Buffy's thought shattered like the metaphorical mirror. "Oz!"

Oz was eyeing her warily. "You alright? You seemed a little out of it."

"Oh, I'm fine. Just... thinking." They'd reached the hospital. Buffy felt she'd visited it far too often in the past few days.

The pretty blond receptionist recognised them as they entered. "Oh! I remember you. You want to see Rupert Giles, right?"

Buffy smiled. "Yeah. Do you know if he's getting better?"

"I don't know. They don't tell me. But I hope he's alright. Ward 312."

Buffy thanked her, and she and Oz went up to third floor.

They were stopped short by the sight of a few frowning police pacing the length of Giles's ward, one of whom was talking seriously with a doctor. They stopped abruptly as Oz and Buffy entered.

"Something happen?" Buffy asked uneasily. Her eyes travelled to the window, which was broken jaggedly, the glass strewn over the ward. There were muddy footprints on the floor—bare feet. Giles still lay completely oblivious to his surroundings. Buffy felt a slight pang in her heart.

"Nothing to worry about, miss," the police officer said smoothly. "Just a few vandals, I reckon. There's scaffolding on this side of the building—I suppose a bunch of kids felt it would be fun to climb up and vandalise property. No-one was harmed."

"This happen last night?" Oz asked.

"Yes. The security guards will look out for the troublemakers, but I doubt they'll come back." The policeman turned to the doctor. "If anything like this happens again, call. Good day." They left.

The doctor tsk-tsked. "Kids these days, honestly. What _is_ the world coming to?" He smiled wanly at Oz and Buffy. "Well, I'm sure the two of you aren't anything like that. What can I help you with?"

Buffy looked down at Giles. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I'm sorry, there's been no change," the doctor said gently. "He's a curious case, this one. There's nothing physically wrong with him. We can't figure it out."

A sudden lump rose in Buffy's throat. Horrified, she fought it back, but the doctor must have seen something in her face because he patted her awkwardly on the elbow. "There, there," he said. "People in comas wake up from them all the time. I wouldn't be a bit surprise if Mr. Giles woke up of his own accord in the next week—not a bit surprised." He checked his watch. "I must go. You can stay a while if you'd like, but be careful of the glass. Now the police have given us the go-ahead I'll have the cleaners remove the glass and I'll get the window replaced." He hurried out.

"What do you think?" Oz asked her in a low voice.

"I think I'll be spending the night here to make sure whatever it was that broke into this room to get at Giles won't ever hurt him again," Buffy said grimly.


End file.
